Free Burning Angels by Bear Grylls Page B

presence at the school. By the New Year – gone. Not a word.’
    His tone was bordering on hurt. Jaeger could understand why. To some they were the most unlikely of friends, but over time Jaeger had warmed to the Rat’s unconventional, maverick ways, plus his complete lack of pretentiousness.
    With the Rat, what you saw was what you got – always.
    That Christmas had been one of the few occasions on which Jaeger had got Ruth to really buy in to the rugby thing. Prior to that, she’d been loath to watch matches, for she couldn’t bear to see Luke getting ‘so beaten up’, as she put it.
    Jaeger understood, but even at eight years of age Luke had been obsessed by the game. Blessed with natural protective instincts and a fierce loyalty, he’d proven a stalwart in defence. A rock. A lion.
    His tackling was fearsome, and few were the opposition players who managed to get past him. And in spite of his mother’s worries, he wore his bruises and cuts as badges of honour. He seemed to have a natural appreciation of the saying – ‘What doesn’t break you makes you stronger’.
    That Christmas’s sport – Rugby Sevens; seven-a-side – tended to be more fast-flowing and less bogged down by the brutal attrition of the regular game. Jaeger had lured Ruth to that first sevens match, and once she had seen her son running like the wind and scoring a fine try, she’d been hooked.
    From then on she and Jaeger had stood arm in arm on the sidelines, screaming out their support for Luke and his team. It had been one of those precious moments when Jaeger had felt the simple joy of being a family.
    He had videoed one of the toughest matches, so they could play the tape to the boys and analyse how best to improve their game. Lessons learned. But now, those were some of the last images he had of his missing son.
    And he had replayed those scenes over and over during the three dark years since losing him.

 
    14
    On the spur of the moment, they’d driven north that Christmas, to Wales, to do some winter camping, the car stuffed full of gear and presents. Ruth was a lover of all things nature, and a diehard conservationist, and her son had inherited those same interests. As a threesome, they loved nothing more than to head out into the wild.
    But it was there on the Welsh mountains that Ruth and Luke had been ripped away from him. Jaeger – traumatised and driven wild by grief – had cut off all links to the world they had once inhabited, Jules Holland and his son Daniel included.
    Daniel – who had Asperger’s, a form of autism – had been Luke’s best friend at school. Jaeger could only imagine how suddenly losing his battle buddy had affected him.
    Holland waved a hand vaguely towards the match. ‘As you’ll have noticed, Dan’s still blessed with two flat feet. Takes after his dad, a cack-handed monster at any sport. At least with rugby you can bumble through with a bit of fat and muscle.’ He glanced at his paunch. ‘More the former, when you’re talking about a son of mine.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ Jaeger offered. ‘About the disappearance. The silence. Stuff happened.’ He glanced around at the rain-swept scene. ‘I guess maybe you heard.’
    ‘A little.’ Holland shrugged. ‘I feel for you. No need to apologise. No need to say anything at all.’
    A silence lay between them. Companionable. Understated. Accepting. The thud of boots on wet turf and the yells of the parents punctuated their thoughts.
    ‘So how is Daniel?’ Jaeger asked eventually. ‘It must’ve been hard for him. Losing Luke. Those two were utterly inseparable.’
    Holland smiled. ‘Kindred spirits, that’s how I always thought of them.’ He glanced at Jaeger. ‘Dan’s made some new friends. But he never stops asking, “When’s Luke coming back?” That kind of thing.’
    Jaeger felt a lump in his throat. Maybe it had been a mistake coming here. It was twisting him up inside. He tried changing the subject. ‘You busy? Still up to the